Safe
by Winter Ashby
Summary: "No one's around, Veronica." Mercer's voice looms from the darkness. And it brings with it an uncontrollable trembling in her. But Veronica can hear footsteps in front of her now. She doesn't know who they belong to. "Hey." they call out from the end of the hall and she is paralyzed with hope. [Lamb & Veronica] ish Alternate end to S3E09


**Title:** **Safe  
Author:** Winter Ashby (_rosweldrmr_)  
**Disclaimer:** Veronica Mars © Rob Thomas**  
Rating:** K+**  
Timeline:** Alternate timeline, episode 3.09 Spit & Eggs**  
Summary: **"No one's around, Veronica." Mercer's voice looms from the darkness. And it brings with it an uncontrollable trembling in her. But Veronica can hear footsteps in front of her now. She doesn't know who they belong to. "Hey." they call out from the end of the hall and she is paralyzed with hope. [Lamb/Veronica]ish  
**Authors Notes:** This has been in the works since 11.28.06... so yeah. Enjoy.

* * *

She is all fear. Just feet on stairs, hair tangled around her face and neck, hot air in her lungs and burning legs. Throbbing head and pounding heart.

Veronica runs, harder, faster, as she pushes forward and down, taking 3 or 4 steps at a time. Down the hall. Out. It's the only thing driving her, out, sound, light, people. Out. She needs to be out of the dark. Away from the smell of Mercer's cologne, and the oh-so recent memory of his voice in her ear, his hands on her skin, the dresser rushing out to meet the back of her head.

This need for out and air and light and sound drives her. She runs faster now, reaching, pushing, needing to escape. But the hall is so long, and she can hear the dragging of his labored gait in the stairwell. She doesn't have much time now.

She bangs her fists against dorm room doors. Her palms are sore, her knuckles bloodied, a sharp pain running through her hand. And she is screaming. She doesn't remember making the conscious decision to begin knocking or yelling. But it doesn't matter anyway, there is no one. Just long, dark hallways. And the echoing sound of heavy footsteps behind her.

"Please. Someone, anyone!" there is something in her voice, a level of hysteria that she is unprepared for. It's jarring, to know she is so unhinged.

"No one's around, Veronica." Mercer's voice looms from the darkness. And it brings with it an uncontrollable trembling in her.

But Veronica can hear footsteps in front of her now. She doesn't know who they belong to, it could be his accomplish or her savior. "Hey." they call out from the end of the hall and she is paralyzed with hope.

"Help. Please." she clutches her side, and crumples to the floor, an unopened door at her back. The sound of that voice calling out to her is too much. The hope, the fear, and pounding in her head and ringing in her ears. She's exhausted, broken, unprepared for anything but this to be over. She can't run anymore.

"Don't move." It's Lamb's voice she recognizes now, as she slumps on the cold floor. She doesn't recognize it from his usual careless tone. In fact, if anything, the authority and command confuse her. She's unused to hearing Lamb speak with such ferocity. But she knows, it has to be him. In some strange, garbled sort of destiny she acknowledges that of course, it had to be him. It was always Lamb, wasn't it? Who else was there when she was at her absolute worse. This is the sad joke that her life has become. Lamb is coming to her rescue.

He emerges from the shadows, gun drawn. And despite everything - the history, the pain, she has not known joy like this before. Hearing his voice. Seeing his face, stretched gaunt with the effort of power. And, just like the twisting fickle fate that brought him down that hall while she trembles on the floor, this is the first time she is aware of ever having felt any semblance of elation at seeing Don Lamb. And in that moment, he is perfect. In that moment, there is no one else in the world that Veronica loves more than Lamb.

But her joy, her hope is short-lived. She can still hear Mercer's dragging foot inching toward her. And the panic rising up in her again. Hot and sharp, like the pain in her head that once again blurs her vision. And she is seized with overwhelming terror at the prospect of him pressing her down, putrid breath on her face from that entitled, hateful laughter he would make as he violates her.

And she knows, if a gun pointed at him won't stop him, nothing will. He will just keep coming after her, no matter where she hides or how far she runs. She will never escape him. His hate is what fuels him now, pushing him forward, makes him urge to cut her, watch her bleed, take his time while he carefully, lovingly shaves her head - to show the world that he has conquered the great Veronica Mars.

She has no clever ideas or quick comebacks anymore. She is resigned, she is defeated.

But it's Lamb's voice, again, that draws her eyes up. "Oh, please. Give me a reason. I'm begging." He's still moving toward her, gun stead, cradled in the cup of his left hand and aimed with his right. She knows this stance, she has seen her father take it before. And it is this, this alarming, uncharacteristic association to her father that brings the first wave of tenuous calm she has felt since she realized she was trapped with a rapist.

He will protect her. Even if he's Lamb, he's still a cop. And cops are good. And he's got a gun.

Her mind works frantically to put it all together, to reconcile the dangerous, nearly ferocious Lamb with the incompetent, bumbling sheriff that ruined her family and managed to let even her lowest expectations down. She's sure she's never heard him sound so dangerous before.

With the image of this impossibility burned into her mind, she musters enough courage to turn and peer through the tangles of her hair back at Mercer. And it is as she feared. He is wild, with bloody hands, and a bum leg. He is still coming for her.

"I'm gonna make you scream, you little bitch."

She is frozen in place. Helpless as she watches him lunge for her. There is a useless, garbled wail that exits her throat as she sits, still immobilized as the world is coming to an end.

She doesn't notice it at first, when fingers wrap around her right upper arm. But in a whirl of motion, she is pulled to her feet, Lamb's fingers digging in her skin, he grips so hard. He doesn't say anything to her, and she doesn't see his face before he has her up and has taken a huge step forward.

Now he is standing between her and Mercer. Seemingly careless of her injuries, he presses her between the door and his back. And his towering frame now hides her from view. She shrinks in his shadow, her fingers twist in the brown polyester of his shirt, and she can smell blood and sweat and metal.

"Back off!" he barks, his back is pulled taut, and she jumps at the sound of his voice. The order is unmistakable in it's meaning. But just for good measure, he adds "I will use deadly force if I have to."

She can see nothing now, past his back pressed against her face. Her cheek is flat against his back and she is only mildly aware that she is shaking. In fact, if it weren't for the door at her back and Lamb pressing against her, she is sure she would fall. Her knees feel weak and oddly disconnected, like they could bend in any direction. She has only ever felt something like this inability to stand after very good sex.

Her brain jumps around, from memories of Logan and her from the summer before and Lamb laughing at her when she confessed that she'd been raped to horrible images of what Mercer will do to her.

And all this blurs into the other, one memory bleeding into the next so at the moment she's unsure what's real or not anymore.

"You wouldn't dare." Mercer threatens Lamb, but without being able to see his face or how far he is, it feels strangely distant. "You have no real authority here. You're just the mayor's puppet. And the Mayor serves the elite in this town. I'll be out in a week."

"Not if you don't stop. Where. You. Are." Lamb says slowly, deliberately, with great care. And for a second, she is terrified that Lamb will side with Mercer. But at least he's still pointing his gun.

And that strikes her as wrong. Mercer shouldn't still be coming after her. Even if he thought he could get away with it, he shouldn't risk getting shot. Not unless-

Veronica clenches her fingers in Lamb's shirt and peers up. Her tear-tracked cheek rubs against his uniform and he shifts slightly, feeling her move. She uses her grip as leverage to pull herself up, and stands on her tiptoes.

Lamb is so tall. Taller than she can ever remember. Taller than Logan even, and he always seemed like the tallest man in the world. But she has to tell him, warn him, secretly.

"He's got my taser." Veronica whispers as close to his ear as she can manage from her position.

She remembered having it in the room when he first attacked her. But she lost it in the struggle, before she fled. That has to be it. He thinks he still has the advantage, that he can still get her.

"I'm not going to say it again." Lamb says, and she can hear the clink of the safety being turned off. "Put your hands in the air where I can see them. Then lay face down in the floor with your hands behind your head."

"Yeah right." Mercer chuckles and its like being submerged in ice water. Pins and needles.

"Now!" Mercer yells and both Lamb and Veronica turn to the right, too late.

Someone else has emerged from the shadows. Veronica can just make out the slope of his side as he swings his arm, holding something.

There is no time to think. Lamb is all movement, all action. She squeaks as he pulls away from her, turning his whole body to shield her from the coming blow. He fires as the bat (she can see it clearly now) makes impact with his arms. and she watches as the side of Moe's head sprays against the wall. His body instantly goes lifeless and falls, the bat still gripped in his hands.

Lamb is cursing and holding his right arm, which must be broken, the way it's bending. And Mercer is on her, fingers twisting in her hair, yanking her back, and her taser is shoved painfully between her ribs. And she reaches her arms out to Lamb.

"Oh well." Mercer shrugs at Moe's body. "I knew he'd be useful someday."

"Let me go." she demands and she struggles against him, kicking, flailing, jabbing her elbow towards his bad leg. Anything to get away.

"Uh uh uh." he tuts and presses the taser so hard against her ribs, the electrodes tear through her shirt and break her skin. His lips are pressed against the shell of her ear and she begins to sob.

Wailing, gasping, painful sobs. And her only thought is: Not like this. She's doesn't want to die like this. Not with Lamb watching. Not without her Dad or Logan or anyone she loves. "Please, Mercer. Please, don't."

"You haven't even begun to beg yet." he tells her as he begins to move backward, dragging her step by step away from Lamb who is on his knees now, trying to stand. There is blood spilling from a gash on his head and he looks unsteady.

"Lamb." she says, trying to get his attention. "Don't. Don't let him. Shoot." she begs between sobs. She feels the taser rip down her side, taking fabric and skin with it.

Lamb looks up at her. His eyes are unfocused and drift. He must have a concussion. But he manages to catch her eyes for a second. And in them, she swears she can see a question. Like he's asking what she means or if she's sure.

"Please." she says again and feels the burn from the taser start in her side and spread up and out. She loses all control over her body as the electricity runs through her veins. She cries out, and tumbles forward. Only to be pushed back as a shot fires and Lamb's bullet hits her shoulder before tearing through her and into Mercer.

She doesn't turn to look, but she can hear a gurgle just before he hits the ground. She doesn't want to see him. She might feel pity if she had to watch him bleed to death.

She crawls on her hand and knees, with her one good arm. She is bleeding profusely and her only thought is to get away from Mercer. Even if he is dead.

"Veronica," Lamb croaks and reaches for her. "Your shoulder. I'm sorry."

When she gets to him, she is surprised to find she clings to him. She crawls right into his embrace and lays her head on his shoulder.

He is steadfastly trying to apply pressure to her shoulder with his good arm, but all she can think about is being safe. Lamb is safe. She needs safe.

"Help is coming." he tells her and rubs a hand up her back in a soothing gesture. But her sobs don't stop. If anything, his kindness just makes it worse. She wraps her arm around her middle and grips her side and curls farther into him so that every inch of her is enveloped in Lamb. And she weeps.

He finally gives up on triage and uses his good arm to cup the back of her head and neck, his fingers laced gently in her hair and let's her cry.

Later, after Lamb's deputies and her dad find them, and she is forced to relinquish her hold on him. Her father holds her hand as she gets loaded onto a gurney and taken to the hospital. In fact, she doesn't see Lamb for a few days after. So that by the time he saunters into her room, dressed in his street clothes and leaning against the door frame, the bruises on his face have bloomed into a sickly greenish-yellow. He looks terrible.

"Hey." he says and looks at the wall behind her.

"Thanks." She says, not wanting to prolong the 'you-saved-my-life' talk.

"Sorry." he says, glancing at his feet, and back to the wall. She's sure the 'sorry-I-shot-you' talk was also weighing heavily on him.

There is silence for a moment and Veronica looks up to catch him watching her.

"I'm glad I was there." He says, eyes locked with not a hint of sarcasm. It's one of the few times in her life when she believes he's actually being genuine.

"Me too." she tells him, with all the sincerity she has.

He smiles, soft and a little crooked. "Yeah, well. Don't make a habit of it Ms. Mars." he pushes off from the door and swings his foot around, to leave. Then he pauses and turns back to her. She's so caught off guard when begins to walk toward her that she doesn't have time to flinch or tell him not to.

He rests a hand on her bed, inches from hers. "Really, don't. I don't ever want to do that again." But when he says it, he doesn't look at her. His eyes are pointed at her forehead. But she's sure he isn't seeing her. The way his voice shallows and his eyes are unfocused. He's existing in those terrible moments days ago in a never-ending hallway. He's remembering.

He pulls away and she catches his hand, the IV tube tugs at the tape on her skin and she twists her fingers with his in an awkward gesture until he meets her gaze. "I promise." She says, and means it.

His fingers slide from hers, and he disappears around the corner. She stares at the empty space of the doorway, and she is struck with a strange sense of loss. Intuitively, she understand that the next time she sees him things will go back to how they were before. She's sure they will never discuss the events of that night again. And the strange bond that formed in that dark hallway will fade, leaving a scar on her shoulder and a memory that will never quite seem real. She misses that connection... she misses _him_ already.


End file.
